And When Our Children Tell Our Story
by omelettethemusical
Summary: ...they'll tell the story of tonight. The children of Hamilton, Laurens, Mulligan and Lafayette meet on the evening of Hamilton's funeral. "I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy" - John Adams


_Disclaimer: I don't own jack._

* * *

After his father was six feet underground and as volleys were shot across the harbor, 18-year-old Alexander Hamilton Jr. sat on the docks, watching the ships. He tried to imagine the one his father had come in on all those years ago, seeing America for the first time, the hope he must have felt. If he had known it would come to this, Alex wondered, would he still have done it?

Alex knew he shouldn't wander off like this. He had to be strong for his mother and siblings. With his older brother dead and his older sister crazy, he was now the Hamilton child that everyone looked to to carry on his father's legacy. And the name certainly didn't help.

"Hello," said a female voice above him.

Alex looked up to see a pretty woman about ten years older than him. She had an accent he couldn't place.

"Hello," said Alex, with no energy in his voice, hoping this would make her turn away. He prayed she wouldn't ask his name. Then again, he could use someone to talk to.

"Are you here for the funeral?" the woman asked, taking in his mourning clothes.

Alex nodded.

"So am I."

"Did you know him?" Alex asked.

"No, but my father did," said the woman.

"Who's your father?"

"John Laurens."

"John Laurens?" Alex repeated. He was sure he'd heard that name before, but he couldn't quite place it.

"My father fought with Hamilton during the revolution," the woman went on. "They were quite close. I hear Hamilton was devastated when he died."

"What about you?" Alex asked. God, that was a stupid question. Of course she would have been devastated. She was just a little girl back then. Oh well, misery loves company.

"No," said the woman, taking Alex by surprise. "The truth is, I didn't know my father at all. The way my mother talked about him, I don't think he even loved us, he only married her to save her reputation."

"I'm sorry," said Alex, not knowing what else to say. "My father was always working, hardly ever had time for our family. I know it's not the same, but - "

"In a way, that's worse," said the woman. "What was it George Washington said? 'Dying is easy, living is harder'. But not just for the person dying or living - for their family, too."

"What's your name?" Alex asked, just realizing he didn't know.

"Frances Henderson," the woman said, giving him her hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand before she could ask his name. "Are you here on your own?"

"No," she said. "My husband is around here somewhere with our three-year-old son. We're all Francises," she added, laughing wryly.

"That must get confusing," Alex said. He knew it was stupid to be disappointed that she was married - she was too old for him, and anyway, how dare he think about women when his father was barely cold?

"So what about you?" Frances asked. "What's your name?"

Alex swallowed and looked right at her. There was no help for it. "Alexander Hamilton."

"Oh," she said, after a moment of stunned, confused silence. "Junior, you mean."

Alex nodded.

"I - I'm so sorry for your loss," said Frances. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't any of your business," Alex said.

"I suppose that's true," Frances agreed. "Well, it was nice meeting you. I should go find my family."

"Wait," said Alex, getting up. "Do you want to - maybe - catch up sometime? I just - I think our fathers would have wanted it."

"Of course," said Frances, smiling. "As long as I'm here, I'd love to."

"Great," said Alex. "I know just the place."

* * *

Hercules Mulligan was the only member of their fathers' old gang who still lived in New York City. However, he spent less and less time in his tailor's shop these days, which was now being run by his son William. William was older than Alex but younger than Frances, and had a softer look than his father, with his mother's American accent instead of his father's brogue.

The day after the funeral - funerals being very good business for tailors, especially the funerals of old family friends - Alex and Frances stopped by the shop to greet William Mulligan. The young man put down his work solemnly and looked up to face them.

"Alex?" William said incredulously. "Is that you? I haven't seen you in forever!" He rushed forward to embrace the teenager. "And who is this?" he asked, pulling away to get a good look at the woman.

"William, this is Frances Henderson," said Alex. "Nee Laurens."

"Laurens?" William repeated. "As in, John Laurens?"

"That'd be the one," said Frances. "I'm sorry if you expected another man, but I'm all he ever had."

"No, no, you are very welcome here!" said William. "Come, sit down, please." He sighed as they sat down next to him.

"Now, if only one of Lafayette's children were here, it would be perfect," Alex said.

"Well, seeing as how Lafeyette's still in France, I don't think that's likely," said Frances.

"Actually - " said William, but just then the bell rang, announcing a handsome blond man in his mid-twenties coming through the door.

"I 'ave come to return ze suit you rented me," the young man said in a thick French accent. He took off the long black coat and white cravat and handed them to William.

"Alex, Frances, this is Georges Washington de Lafayette," said William. "Lafayette's only son."

"Bonsoir, monsieur, madame," Georges said with a bow. "I came down from 'arvard as soon as I 'eard ze sad news."

"Good day," said Alex, reaching out his hand. "Did you, um, know my father?"

"No," said Georges, "but my father told me a lot about 'im. All good things, of course," he added.

"Don't worry, Alex," said William, putting a hand on Alex's shoulder. "Burr will be found and brought to justice."

"I cannot believe zat your vice president killed a man," Georges said. "Say what you want about Napoleon, but 'e put a stop to zat kind of thing."

"Come," said Frances. "Our fathers wouldn't want us to be miserable and vengeful. Let's grab a drink."

"Yes, let's," said William gratefully. He led them into the pantry and poured four glasses of beer, handing them out to his new friends.

Frances raised her glass. "To the four of us," she said. She put her hand over her belly. "And tomorrow they'll be more of us."

"Indeed," said Alex, making the toast and downing his drink. "Let's have another round tonight."

* * *

 **A/N: Historical inaccuracies - Frances Laurens was English and never visited the States as far as I could tell. Georges Washington de Lafayette left America in 1798 and didn't return until 1824.**


End file.
